


Make The Most Of Your Work

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sounding, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Admire, love and take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make The Most Of Your Work

**Author's Note:**

> Have I told you how much I love dom!Wing and sub!Drift?
> 
> Woo, look at me writing trash!

“Stay still, stay still”, Wing murmured as he fastened the last strap of Drift’s cincher. He then took a step back to admire his work and smiled. The mech in front of him panted slightly, trying the straps and buckles by shifting before sighing contently and relaxing.

The grounder was on his knees on the floor, blue optics fixated on Wing’s. He had a large leather cincher fastened around his waist, the shaped piece of leather emphasizing the curves, connected to a heavy collar around his neck with a thick strap. His arms were bound to the cincher by straps around his upper arms and forearms.

There was also a ring hanging from the bottom of the cincher, a ring big enough for a spike to be slipped through. And if that wasn’t enough, a thinner strap was attached to the ring, running over his already revealed, moist valve and connected to a ring that was attached on the backside of the cincher, the strap loose enough for Wing to shove something nice in Drift’s valve.

“Oh, I almost forgot the most important ones”, the white mech crooned and took a muzzle that looked like a dog’s snout and a leash from the box where the rest of the stuff had been.

Drift tried to evade the muzzle purposely, testing Wing’s abilities to control him, uttering a snarl and baring his fangs. The jet smiled at him and grabbed a finial, tweaking it gently but still giving Drift a clear message that he was in charge now.

The muzzle was attached to his face with two straps going around his head, two under his jaw and one strap that divided into two straps over his forehead. The scent of leather awakened his sensornet, a fresh, tiny flood of lubricants gushing from his valve.

“I think you’re ready now”, Wing purred, rubbing under the grounder’s chin, his field pulsing with thick arousal and anticipation but also deep affection and love.

Wing wore a cincher with a spike ring – similar to Drift’s –, his erect spike trapped by the ring (though, the ring around his spike wasn’t as tight as it was for Drift). He held the leash as he returned to the box and pulled out a vibrator which looked awfully a lot like his own spike, with a small addition; a large bulge for the anterior node. Is it any wonder that it looks like his spike since he had ordered a mold being taken of it and had a copy done?

Drift’s optics lighted up as he saw what Wing had in his hand and squirmed, groaning as the strap against his anterior node rubbed it.

“Stay still, I said”, the knight ordered softly and knelt down to slip the vibrator inside Drift and moved the strap to keep it in, the bulge nicely against the node. A faint whine welled from the bi-colored mech.

“Open up”, he said and brushed the panel hiding Drift’s spike. Once the panel opened, he guided the rigid spike through the ring, pressing the cold metal snuggly against the base.

He then got up and backed up the berth and sat down, his thighs spread apart. With a light tug to the leash and a command of ‘Here’, the grounder crawled to Wing rather awkwardly as his arms were useless, settling nicely between the legs, probing the offered spike with the muzzle. He was forbidden to use his hands until Wing decided otherwise.

Wing sighed, lifting his unoccupied hand on one of Drift’s finials, stroking it gently as the mech on his knees gave the spike his full attention, purring. The blue gaze rose to meet Wing’s yellow and a moan broke free from his vocalizer, the sound getting muffled by the muzzle.

“Good boy.”

The praise got Drift to double his efforts and he pressed closer to the other mech, rubbing his muzzle more firmly along the shaft, pretending to lick the underside by nuzzling it. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, utterly helpless to do anything, his claws almost digging into his palms. His spike throbbed in need, the ring squeezing the base, the tight feeling making him even more aroused.

Apparently Wing had been very aroused himself as his hips bucked and his legs twitched, gasping loudly. There! R-right there... Oh, yes, yes, _yes, YES!_

With a deep keen, the white mech overloaded, his thighs quivering, painting the matte black muzzle and Drift’s forehead with glistening trails of silver. It was so unfair for Drift to be forced to watch the other in the throes of an overload while his own was denied every time he felt it peaking. But that was part of what he needed now; he wanted to be brought to a whimpering mess, begging for an overload. Wanted to be dominated, given instructions, being called ‘good boy’.

“Nnh... Such a good boy you are”, Wing breathed, giving the finial a particularly pleasurable rub to its base which nearly undid Drift despite the ring around his spike.

The vibrator kept buzzing inside the bi-colored mech and the bulge tickled his anterior node but the movement died away abruptly, the charge fading into an annoying but pleasant ache. D-damn! He was so close! He whimpered, long and pitifully, clenching and unclenching his fists again as he was robbed of his release.

With a tug to the leash, Wing gained Drift’s attention back to him. He hadn’t noticed the knight had taken a new object out, this time a slender reed-like rod with a round end until the rod was pushed past the slit of his spike and into the channel, the round end rubbing the insides of his spike.

Drift gasped sharply at the intrusion, his body trying to jerk away but Wing’s hold on the leash kept him in place as the rod was pushed in until only the ring remained outside. Then the rod was pulled about half way out, the ball stroking the spike from within, forming a slight bulge along the shaft as it moved. He bit down on his bottom lip, fighting the loud moan from escaping, the struggle visible in his bright blue optics, the fresh transfluids on his face dully reflecting the light.

Wing could read the grounder’s mind just by looking into his optics; please, let me overload, please, I’ll be a good boy and obey, just please, please, _please, PLEASE_.

The white mech gave an adoring smile and cupped Drift’s face with the hand holding the leash. “As much as I’d like to let you overload, I’m afraid that’d be the end of our fun, now wouldn’t it?” His voice was warm, the soft tenor soothing the other remarkably as Drift cycled a puff of heated air through his vents.

Then the rod was pushed back in and pulled back up, the ball working Drift’s spike and his charge higher. “Do you think you’d manage to push this out if you overloaded right now?” the jet asked, looking straight into the bi-colored mech’s optics while his hand kept moving the rod.

For a reply he got a needy moan accompanied by a strong buck of hips.

Wing smiled at that and got up on his feet. He sat down on the berth and scooted backwards until he had his back against the wall. “Here”, he ordered and tugged the leash, pleased when Drift obeyed him.

Drift rose to wobbly legs, the vibrator and the rod _not_ helping him as he took the few steps to the berth. He had hard time to get up on the berth gracefully and would’ve fallen front first on the berth if Wing wasn’t there to catch him in time, his hands flat on the bi-colored mech’s chest helping him back on his knees.

“You okay?” the jet asked, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.

To that, Drift nodded and his optics showed he smiled behind the muzzle, poking Wing’s nose with it before nuzzling the knight’s cheek, earning a sparkfelt chuckle. He felt arms wrap around him and right after he was pulled closer to the other... But then Wing’s arms disappeared and he opened his optics to see the white mech on his back, no longer holding the leash but instead his hands on Drift’s hips and ushering him to come closer.

“Right here. Come on”, he said lightly, putting more pressure on the hips his hands rested on to maneuver Drift right where he wanted him; his array almost flush against his face, the spike jutting just above Wing’s mouth.

Wing’s arms were trapped under Drift’s shins but he wriggled them to a more comfortable position so he could rest them on the grounder’s thighs and if necessary, on his hips. He gave the rod a few thrusts before letting it rest fully seated in Drift’s spike. One glance up to those hazy blue optics and a tongue flicked out to lick the tip of the spike, the ring clinking in its sheath, causing Drift to groan, his hips pushing a little bit closer. He was unable to take his gaze from Wing, his arousal rocketing sky-high because of the sight.

Even though the knight didn’t take Drift into his mouth (damn that rod!), he still could drive the grounder above him mad with every flick of his tongue, eventually having a writhing, squirming, whimpering mech sitting on his chest. The moans and other noises Drift made were audible but muffled by the muzzle, making the noises sound much deeper than they actually were. He was _so close again!_

Mouthing the underside of the spike, Wing moaned, his own member stiff, aching for something to slide into... That gave him an idea. He let go of the spike, the member bobbing slightly as it was freed, a smirk appearing on his lips.

He placed one hand on Drift’s chest, pushing him gently. He guided the bi-colored mech to sit on his pelvis, their arrays pressed snuggly together. Drift moaned at the added pressure to his filled valve as both the vibrator and the bulge sank deeper. He was feeling so aroused and hot he thought he might blow a fuse or two at this rate.

Wing’s hands snaked behind Drift and down on his aft, lifting him, the other hand unbuckling the thin strap that held the vibrator.

“W-Wing...?”

The vibrator threatened to slip out but Wing was quick to press his thumb against its bottom. He shifted under Drift and nosed the tip of his spike against the entrance of the valve, a silent request to enter. There was hesitation and hint of fear in the grounder’s optics but he trusted Wing and nodded his permission to proceed.

The jet lowered the other mech slowly down on his spike, the tip joining the vibrator, stretching the lips and mesh walls wider to the point of near pain. As the valve clenched at the new intruder, Drift whimpered suddenly, jerking his hips away, the spike that was one third in slipping out.

“I... I can’t...” he muttered apologetically.

“It’s all right. We don’t have to it this way if you don’t want to”, Wing said softly, rubbing the bound mech’s hips in a soothing manner.

Drift nodded and sighed, relaxing under the knight’s touch, easing himself back down to sit on Wing, spikes rubbing together. Now that the thin strap was off, the bi-colored mech could undulate his hips against Wing’s to get satisfaction to his aching anterior node but his attempt was cut short.

“No. Bad boy”, the white mech scolded and buckled the strap in place again, receiving another whimper from Drift. He pushed the other mech on his back, assisting him to get comfortable and started massaging the ramrod straight spike, his thumbs circling the tip while his palms stroke the shaft.

The bi-colored mech’s mouth hung open and his optics almost rolled over in their sockets. His mind repeated the same mantra over and over again; let me overload, let me overload, let me overload... Then the rod was removed from his spike, a quiet squelch sounding as the ball left the slit. He felt the overload approaching him fast but the ring around his spike still denied him the sweet bliss.

“Please, Wing... Please...” That was all he could master from his vocalizer, trying to focus his optics on the white mech.

Wing smirked again but took pity on Drift; after all, he’d had several overloads denied and he could take only so much before warning messages would start popping up. He slid the ring off and a couple of firm rubs to the tip of the spike had the grounder wailing, his back arching, transfluids bursting from the slit to coat his stomach and Wing’s fingers.

The white mech moaned as he watched Drift twitch and thrash, feeling a smaller overload travel through his systems.

The amazing overload faded but the grounder’s body wasn’t sated yet. The vibrator buzzed and then stopped, the gray thighs squeezing together as a choked whine rolled from Drift’s lips.

“I think you’ve lasted long enough, hm?” Wing purred and licked his transfluid-stained fingers clean.

Now the most urgent craving for Drift was to get to kiss Wing. He wanted to kiss him so much. And as if the jet had read his mind, the muzzle was removed and Wing’s lips were against his, at first soft and reassuring but then harsh, demanding, tongues gliding against each other. The bi-colored mech could taste the remains of his own transfluids on his tongue, his arousal waking anew, his spike hardening between them.

Wing rocked his hips, rubbing their spikes together until he tensed and a jet of hot transfluids slicked both of their stomachs, adding to the mess already on Drift’s.

“Need you”, Drift breathed, “Want you so much.”

“Shh...” the jet hushed him by placing an index finger on the dark gray lips, “Or do you want me to put the muzzle back on?” he added, teasingly but the threat was there, nonetheless.

The mech beneath him grinned lopsidedly and nodded. He liked that muzzle.

With that, the muzzle was back on, once again muffling the noises that escaped his vocalizer.

The knight helped him to sit up and gestured him to lie down on his front but to keep his aft up, his left hand roaming over the curves of the other’s waist, hips and aft while his other hand worked himself hard again. The yellow gaze landed on the wet mess between Drift’s thighs, the lubricants that gushed from the valve despite the vibrator filling it.

Drift moaned loudly as the thin strap was unbuckled and the vibrator slipped out of his overly slick valve freely and without any friction whatsoever. The valve lips were spread and his anterior node was given a few circling rubs before his valve was filled again, this time by the one thing he’d wanted the whole session ever since it started.

Wing pushed all the way in with a breathy moan, the amount of lubricants in the valve giving him an easy access. He opened the straps around Drift’s arms and bound them behind the grounder’s back with the leash.

“Do you want to be at my mercy? Completely and utterly under my control?” he growled as he leaned down to whisper those words to Drift’s audio.

“Yes! Yes! Please, Wing! Frag me! Just frag me!” the bi-colored mech begged behind his muzzle, pushing his hips back, his back arching into a beautiful arch like the finest bow ever crafted.

“Well... Shall we begin, then?” the jet groaned and pulled almost out until only the tip of his spike remained in and thrust back in, setting a pace Drift wanted; hard and fast.

Drift’s optics glazed over as he was pounded and filled and used, his body bouncing with every thrust, his array hot with arousal and wanton need. He was sure he’d overloaded again as there was a fresh flow of wetness trailing down his inner thighs but he wanted more, _more, MORE_.

The leather cincher around his waist crunched and complained under the harsh treatment as Drift arched his back more to invite Wing deeper. Luckily the cincher was made of multiple layers of very strong leather.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what my good boy wanted?” Wing moaned, grinding his hips against Drift’s.

Drift couldn’t no longer form any coherent words so instead he nodded, closing his optics tightly as another overload tore through his body. His spike throbbed for attention but Wing concentrated on his valve for now, the spike driving into him feeling harder.

With a strained moan, Wing finished inside Drift, a flooding wave of transfluids spilling into him, some fluids flowing out between the cramped space to the berth. Pulling out, the white mech gathered his bearings and steadied his vents and once calmed down, he stroke Drift’s weeping spike – just a light brush along the underside and a grace to the tip and the bi-colored mech overloaded one last time, moaning weakly, body shivering.

Completely spent and tired, Drift collapsed on his front, ignoring the mess he lied on, his vents hitching and sputtering. His arms were unbound and his shoulder joints massaged thoroughly.

His processor swam in a blurry haze and was entirely oblivious of Wing cleaning him and the berth.

Then those gentle hands came to his back and opened the cincher, unbuckling the straps and the collar. The cincher spread open stiffly and Wing requested him to get up enough so he could take the cincher off. Drift lifted himself on trembling arms, propping his upper body on elbows and when the cincher was off, his arms gave out and he slumped back down.

After cleaning and taking the accessories off of Drift, Wing took his own cincher off and placed it on the floor where the other stuff they’d used lied in a heap, waiting to be cleaned and washed later.

“All right?” he murmured as he crawled to lie beside Drift, closing him into a safe embrace, kissing the dark crown.

“Mm-mh”, Drift replied, burying his face into the crook of Wing’s neck, curling, snuggling up against the warm body. “Felt so good”, he rumbled wearily, his optics closed.

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed myself, too”, Wing admitted and tightened the hug, reaching his EM field, enveloping the other mech, making sure he was indeed all right.

Drift answered back by brushing his own field against Wing’s, falling into calm recharge in the safest place in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a fic where Drift wore a bondage muzzle that looks like a dog's snout. 8D And I really, _really_ , _**REALLY**_ like male corsets/cinchers.
> 
> I also thought of giving Drift a spike cage with a sound plug on it... but then I thought nah, let's keep this simple. Plus, you have NO idea how much bondage pictures I had to look at so I could describe things correctly. And I still feel I failed. :'D
> 
> Wrote this because I couldn't quite concentrate on writing Solitary Shell but don't panic, the next chapter is on its way.


End file.
